


you just wait and see

by nanasekei



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Rocket Raccoon-centric, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-27
Updated: 2018-04-27
Packaged: 2019-04-28 12:30:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14449320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nanasekei/pseuds/nanasekei
Summary: “Thor said you’re the captain.” Rogers says, his voice distant, sad smile growing into a sadder grin. “Tough job.”





	you just wait and see

**Author's Note:**

> MASSIVE spoiler warning for Infinity War. Also, there's a blink-and-you'll-miss-it Stony undertone in a line. It's so minor I didn't even put in the ship tag, but, you know, if it's your notp or something, you've been warned.

The Milano is too big.

It had never occurred to him before, in the middle of constantly repairing and upgrading the ship. With six people living there, it seemed tight, sometimes, and honestly, when he felt like he couldn’t handle everybody else’s shit anymore, Rocket wished he could have a cabin for himself.

What didn’t occur to him before – and he still finds it hard to say it now – is that the Milano was never made to carry a crew of six people. It used to be Quill’s ship. It was made to carry one specific asshole through the galaxy, not six random idiots. That was why it sometimes felt too tight, why sometimes Rocket just wanted to throw Drax out of the airlock, or break Groot’s video game, or pretend Mantis wasn’t talking to him when she was. It was why, at night, Rocket would raise his ears and listen to the sound of everyone else’s breath, and he’d get the random impulse to pick up a backpack, take his stuff and run away.

(After the batteries, that didn’t happen as often. When it did, he closed his eyes and heard Quill’s casual _Well, of course not_ in his head; Gamora’s dry voice making fun of him with Rocket during breakfast; Groot’s leaves growing; Drax’s loud laughter after a comment that wasn’t a joke; Mantis’ giggle at some old terran songs. He heard fireworks at Yondu’s funeral. Then, he got back to sleep.)

Now, sitting in the middle of the cockpit, Rocket thinks: The fucking ship is just too big.

He hears steps next to him, which makes sense – the humans are all searching the ship for any scrap of usable tech they can find, and usually Rocket would be watching them closely, but now he can only think of how big and empty the space is, and how strange a small freak like him must look, sitting there alone.

When Rogers sits next to him, he doesn’t bother to turn his head. He has no beef with the guy, but no one is really in the mood for talking, now. Rarely, Rocket can see them talking to each other – blonde woman talking to scientist guy, scientist guy talking to Thor, Thor talking to some other guy with two daggers that just showed up -, but that’s different. They’re taking care of their own.

(He likes to believe that, in their circumstances, he’d do the same. But, obviously, there’s no way to find out now.)

“It’s a good ship.” Rogers says. He says _good_ , and not _small_ , so Rocket doesn’t correct him.

“Yeah.” Rocket shrugs.

There’s a pause, a long stretch of silence where the only thing Rocket can hear are some distant steps of the other terrans and Rogers’ breath. It’s weird. Again, he has no beef with the guy, but he got used to one particular terran breath. Anything else sounds out of place.

“Do you want us to leave?” He asks. Rocket looks at him for the first time. He looks like he hasn’t showered or slept in days, but still sounds careful, almost polite, like he would actually leave if Rocket wanted him to.

Rocket shrugs again. “Place’s empty. Might as well take anything that can still be useful.”

Rogers studies him with serious eyes. In any other situation, Rocket would recoil at the pity in his face, tell him to fuck off, to mind his own business.

(In any other situation, Gamora would roll her eyes at him; Quill and Groot would chastise him for being an asshole; Mantis would offer to calm him down; and Drax would offer inappropriate advice.

In any other situation, the Milano would not feel so big.)

“You should know,” Rogers says. “That if anyone can find a way to do this, it’s Tony.” His voice gains some strength at the end, as if saying the man’s name relives something in him.

Rocket doesn’t answer. He’s got no beef with Stark, either – guy looked so goddamn destroyed when he arrived that even Rocket wasn’t enough of an asshole to pick a fight about the way he had flown the Milano back to Earth. Still, Rocket can’t help but feel angry.

(He could sound trusting too, he thinks, if he still had anyone left to trust.)

“Whatever.”

“We will beat him.” Rogers replies. His voice is lower this time, as if he’s not talking just to Rocket. “We will find a way to stop him.”

 _“Whatever._ ” Rocket repeats. It’s not even close to how much of a jerk he can be, but he doesn’t care. He can feel the anger bubbling inside him.

To his credit, Rogers doesn’t even blink. “I know it seems impossible.“

“You don’t know shit.”

“I know it must feel-” He continues, as if Rocket hadn’t said anything, but, honestly, fuck him.

“No, you don’t know _shit_. None of you motherfuckers do!” Rocket stands up, turning towards him, now fully furious. His head is pounding. Fuck Rogers, fuck Stark, fuck every single one of these jerks. “Look around you, asshole. This fucking ship is empty _._ There’s no one here and no one coming back. You’re sad because you lost a couple of your playmates?” He shouts, because yeah, _that’s_ how much of a jerk he can be. He’s a jerk and freak and a loser, and he had forgotten how much it hurt to be those things alone. “You’ve got people out there! You and Thor and this Stark guy and whoever the fuck else. You can all still mope around and do whatever shit you terrans like to do.” Like music, Rocket thinks, and the memory of one of Quill’s terrible songs hits him so hard his breath sharpens, his lungs hurts, and he feels his eyes burning.

Rogers doesn’t say anything, just stares at him with an unreadable expression. Rocket wonders if he’s gonna punch him. He kind of wishes he would.

“Everyone I’ve ever loved is gone.” Rocket blurts out. Saying it makes it real in a way he wasn’t expecting to. He looks down, breathing heavily, unable to hold back the tears anymore. “Don’t tell me you know what that’s like.”

There’s a pause where Rocket just cries embarrassingly, like a child. It feels like an eternity. Rocket feels like he’s stuck, unable to move even if he tried.

(The last time that happened, Groot was dead. But that time Rocket still had Drax’s warm hand gently patting his head; he had Gamora and Quill’s worried gazes when they returned to the ship. He had a twig, a frail and small piece of wood, to hold onto while he cried over his best friend.

Now he doesn’t even have that.)

“As a matter of fact,” Rogers voice sounds shaken, and when Rocket looks up he’s got a tiny, sad smile on his face and his eyes are slightly red too. “I do.”

Rocket doesn’t know how long he stands there. Rogers takes a few short, sharp breaths, composing himself, and for a moment he just looks completely fucking exhausted.

It’s that, Rocket thinks, probably, what makes him believe him.

“I’m sorry.” He says, because he doesn’t know what else to say.

“Don’t be.” Rogers replies, rubbing his eyes. He glances at Rocket again, slightly more composed.

There’s a moment of silence, and Rocket reaches forward, unsure, remembering the warmth of Drax’s palm on his head. He pats Rogers’ hand, hesitantly.

Rogers gives him that same sad smile, and Rocket thinks maybe it’s the only one he has.

He covers Rocket’s palm with his hand, a loose and friendly touch, and Rocket flinches a bit, but doesn’t pull away.

(He had flinched at Drax’s touch, at first, too. All the touches he had ever known were meant to hurt. But Drax’s fingers were surprisingly kind against his fur, and it felt soothing and comforting, like it meant something just for being there.

It’s not the same, now. Quill’s song still echoes in his ears, he can see Groot’s face at every corner, and the ship is still too big.)

“Thor said you’re the captain.” Rogers says, his voice distant, sad smile growing into a sadder grin. “Tough job.”

Rocket lets out a choked laugh, shrugging. “Somebody’s gotta do it.” He says, and something that Rocket doesn’t understand flickers in Rogers’ face. There’s a twinkle in his eyes, and, for a moment, his smile is slightly less sad. Rocket smiles back.

(It’s not the same, but it helps.)

**Author's Note:**

> So. This movie happened, and by the end, I came home drowning in Rocket feels. My friend and I laughed over the "captain of the Guardians" joke because hey, now both of my favorite MCU characters are captains, and then I knew I had to write a fic with him and Steve. So this happened. 
> 
> As always, thank you for reading it! I'd love to hear your thoughts about it, positive or not, and if you want to talk or cry over IW, you can find me at my tumblr: [x](elcorhamletlive.tumblr.com)


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